what fades away
by AlyssaLucyAnne
Summary: An AU for 4x16 Linchpin, in which Sophia actually pulls the trigger


**what fades away**

* * *

_No light, no light_

_In your bright blue eyes_

_I never knew daylight could be so violent_

_A revelation in the light of day_

_You can't choose what stays and what fades away_

_And I'd do anything to make you stay_

_No light, no light_

_Tell me what you want me to say_

**_No light, no light – Florence + the machine _**

* * *

One second. The blink of an eye. The flicker of a finger wrapped around the trigger of a loaded gun. It takes one second for Sophia Turner to end her partner's life. Forever.

* * *

The words and sentences written on the white murder board are nothing but indistinct schemes, the black lines blurring in front of her eyes, only occasionally manifesting into solid formations.

_Pandora._

_Linchpin. _

God he had been so excited about this case.

She has been staring at the board for over half an hour now, straight, unblinking and her eyes actually hurt from the forced focus, yet somehow she finds herself unable to move, to even blink regularly and continues to stare at the meaningless words on the meaningless board, unseeing and uncaring.

She feels sick again, has felt that way ever since they had dragged her away from his dead body, ever since she had went to the precinct bathroom and had washed away his blood from her hands, tinting the white ceramic of the sink red before she had run over to one of the toilets and had thrown up, several times.

Gate's words still ring in her ears and through her awareness without her mind actually grasping on them.

"I am terribly sorry for you loss Detective. For our all loss. You did a good job though, I hope you know that, and that it wasn't your fault."

That's what they all have been telling her. That it wasn't her fault. But it was.

How could she have not seen it coming, how could she have not seen through Sophia Turner's façade, through the ridiculous charade she had been playing with them.

If she had, he would still be alive. The now empty chair next to her desk would be filled with his frame, his giddy face smiling at her brightly, because who knows? They might have saved the world today. Of course he would still be down because of Sophia's betrayal, but they would've worked through it, come out stronger. Like they always did. But not anymore, because he's not here, the chair still empty and she can feel the darkness gnawing at her insides at the sight of it, capturing her thoughts and heart because of his visible absence.

She hears the shuffling of approaching feet behind her, someone nearing her cautiously as if she were a wild animal, ready to attack. She thought she'd be alone by now, Gates had sent them all home, but apparently someone had stayed.

She feels fresh tears starting to pool in her eyes upon remembering the precinct's reaction. The collective silence that had befallen the otherwise hectic and loud bullpen when Gates had shared the news. Castle hadn't been a Detective, but he had been loved, by all of them. He had been the person to bring some kind of happiness into their every day, a kind of joy into an otherwise hard and grueling job, a kind of uplifting spirit that was now gone forever.

"How you holdin up?" she doesn't turn around to face Esposito standing right by her side, doesn't even blink upon hearing his voice, just keeps staring at the murder board that should really be cleaned up by now.

"Beckett" she feels his hand on her shoulder, flinches a little at the touch.

"Go home" she shakes her head, a small, desperate move, because she really doesn't want to be home, alone, with no one keeping her company but her raging thoughts.

"I'll clean this up, you really shouldn't be here"

"I can't" her voice is raspy and even she can hear how close to crying she actually is, the tears wavering the words into almost incomprehensible syllables.

His heart breaks at the sight in front of him. At the sight of the usually so strong and tough Detective so helpless, so terribly lost, tears shimmering in her eyes and her voice broken, and he wishes he were like Castle, that he had his ability to always have the right words, the right thing to say to her, but he isn't and Castle isn't here and he has no way of fixing that gaping hole.

So he just reaches out again, places his palm on her shoulder lightly, in what he hopes is a comforting manner, relived to find her not startling away from his touch this time and says the only thing he can think of at the moment.

"He would want you to try."

* * *

She still hears the sound of the gun echoing through her mind when she enters her apartment, still hears her own scream ringing in her ears, burning in her throat and joining the shot to carry through the endless abyss of her mind.

She can't find the light switch, and she doesn't care, stumbles through her living room, tumbles over her own feet before eventually she collapses onto her couch, into pillows that are entirely too soft today.

She feels her eyes starting to water, unshed tears brimming behind her eyes like small needles before finally they start to escape, cascade down her cheeks, small droplets of water that help nothing to soothe the desperate pain inside her.

He can't be dead. He just can't. She needs him.

The first tremors start taking over her body, relentless talons constricting around her throat, tighter and tighter until she can't breathe anymore and she is surprised to hear her own scream in the silence of her room as she bends forwards, her hands clutching at the fabric of her T-shirt right over her stomach, wrenching it desperately as if her soul was trying to escape the cage of her body, a body that currently holds her enclosed, trapped inside an abundance of emotions she can't endure. Her brittle heart helpless against the crushing waves of desperation breaking over her head.

A whimper escapes her throat, falls from her chapped, cold lips and she is scared by how weak she sounds, how broken and defeated, and how so entirely not like the badass Detective Kate Beckett she was supposed to be, as if losing him ultimately meant losing a part of herself too, a vital part of herself that made her strong, invincible, a part that was now missing, the fractured pieces of his absence inside slowly ripping her apart.

Please don't leave me. Please stay.

The words she has whispered and shouted at him earlier, begging for him to just stay with her, to not leave her behind in this cold and empty world still carry through her entire being, repeated in her mind and by her mouth, small whispers over and over, words imprinted on her soul.

The pictures still render in her mind, replaying the moments of his death with a clarity and precision she wishes they hadn't, she wishes she could just forget the sight of his blue eyes widening, his body slumping forwards, his muscles collapsing in on themselves before his entire frame fell forward, onto the solid ground, an instant death. Wishes she didn't remember his eyes when she turned his body around, desperate hope that maybe he wasn't truly dead moving her forwards only to meet his dead blue eyes staring up at her, unseeing and cold, the usually so avid and vivid eyes shaded.

She feels the sob that escapes her throat once again, the sound itself frightening her and it hurts, it hurts to cry, it hurts to breathe and it hurts to even _be_ right now.

Because he is gone, there is no cure for that.

* * *

The knock on the door startles her from her almost catatonic state, but really, there is no one she would want to see at the moment, because the one person she would open the door for, will not be knocking on it anymore.

"Kate, please, it's Alexis"

The voice coming from behind the thick fabric of her door is small, scratchy, and Kate feels like she's been punched in the stomach upon hearing his daughter's voice.

It takes all her strength to get up from the couch and take the first, insecure steps towards the door, her muscles screaming underneath her weight, her legs wobbly, about to give out underneath her and she doesn't know how she even manages to get to the door without falling.

She opens the door to the small frame of his daughter standing in front of her, her red hair dull, eyes brimmed red from crying, tears still silently streaming down her cheeks. They both stare at each other, ghosts of their former selves, two helpless souls that have no words to express the suffocating sadness in their hearts.

"How can I help you?" her voice is unsteady and wavering the tears threating to overwhelm her once again.

"I just…" the girl's voice breaks, leaving her unable to speak for a second, trying to gather her composing again, and Beckett can see the way she forces back the tears, how she raises her hands to angrily wipe away the wetness from her cheeks "I just can't bear to be at the loft right now, I'm sorry, I just… I didn't know where else to go"

"What about your grandma?" even the thought of Martha hurts right now, the thought of the beaming, happy woman losing her son, and she forces herself not to think about her right now.

"She left about two hours before the call, she won't be home before tomorrow, some theater group thing. I can't reach her right now"

She had been alone all this time? Why the hell did she not think to check on Alexis first? She had made that promise to him, and she had let him down, once again.

She steps aside, opens the door a little wider. There are no words, no meaningless phrases to be exchanged. They have both lost a person they can't replace, there are no words to make that better.

Once the redhead has entered her apartment Beckett closes the door, double locks it and guides the girl towards her couch.

The both sit awkwardly, both of their postures stiff, backs straight, knees tightly pressed together, both women staring straight ahead at the wall in front of them.

Her apartment is still dark, only illuminated by the lights of traffic and other people's windows from the outside, headlights casting shadows on her walls from time to time.

The silence starts to become uncomfortable, a dangerous thing, rising up from the darkness, devouring them slowly.

"You wanna talk?" it's the best thing she can offer at the moment and although it is brittle, it breaks the silence surrounding them.

"I don't know, not really" the quiet takes over again, has them both staring down at their hands.

"Who was she?" Alexis takes a moment to swallow down the lump forming in her throat once again "The woman that shot him?"

"Sophia Turner, she was a CIA agent and working on the case with us." Alexis seems to think for a moment.

"He once told me, he based his character Sarah Strike on a Sophia…"

"That's the one" her voice sounds dark, anger and fury flashing through her words.

"She killed him" Alexis' words are flummoxed, the same disbelief Kate had been feeling reflected in his daughter's words.

"What happens to her now?" Alexis turns around now, pulls her legs up onto the couch and in front of her chest.

"She's dead" she has told do many people that someone has died, it is part of her job description. Working with the dead, breaking the news to people becomes part of your everyday life. You develop a routine, phrases like _I'm so sorry for you loss _part of the daily vocabulary. Yet she still tries to be sympathetic, comfort the families as best she can, tries not to be like all the other cops in the city that don't care about the victim or the families for that matter. But right now, sitting in front of his daughter, telling her that the woman responsible for her father's death is dead, her voice is completely void of emotion, dangerous even, because she knows, if Danberg hadn't shot Sophia Turner, she would not have hesitated a second to do so herself.

Alexis just nods, contemplating a new question in her head that has been gnawing at her since she had gotten that call.

"That's what your talk in the morgue was about then? He slept with her?" she realizes that this is a sore subject, but she just has to know whether her father had been in bed with the woman that killed him.

"He said it was only once" she tries not to dwell on that thought, thinks about what he has told her in the car instead. Telling her that she, Kate Beckett, was different, extraordinary and that he was her partner not Sophia's. That their partnership was special, and she is glad that he told her that, because it was for her too.

"You were jealous"

"I..." Alexis casts her a look that immediately stops her from going on in a futile attempt to deny the obvious.

"Yes I was, I was jealous"

Alexis smiles at her response, a smile that barely reaches her sad eyes yet seems genuine nonetheless.

"He loved you, you know?"

A lone tear leaks from Beckett's eyes and cascades down her cheek in a single streak.

"Yeah, I loved him too."

* * *

**I don't know why. I'm sorry. Would love to hear your thoughts (I guess)**

**Tumblr: dancingontiptoes**

**Twitter: AlyssaLucyAnne**


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